The Truth About London
by Cynthia Salander
Summary: He was her prince, her soulmate, her friend. Season 4 - Mondler in London. Alternate reality. Standalone.


_If anyone's wondering what happened to 'The Plan', I'm happy to tell you that it has been removed from Wattpad. I thank each and every wonderful person who helped me with that issue._

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_A/N: This is my version of what happened in London._

_I've always been a little disappointed with 'TOW the Truth About London'. I mean, I'm not criticizing the amazing writers (who am I to do that?), but after the epic romanticness of 'I'm still on London time, does that count?', 'It bodes well for me that speed impresses you' felt like a huge let-down to me._

_So, since the show gives us the sitcom version of what happened in London, I'm here to present to you my humble attempt at a more dramatic & more romantic version of London. (No, not the sex... Okay, maybe a little bit of the sex ;))_

_I'd say that this is alternate reality. And it's kinda overly sappy – so read it at your own risk :)_

Disclaimer: I do not _own _Friends, and I certainly do not own the lines from the show.

**The Truth About London**

"Mon, what you need is some sleep," Chandler murmured as he helped her sit down on her bed. "Now give me that," he reached for her scotch glass, but she pulled her hand away.

"No," she shook her head, slurring even the monosyllabic word. "This," she tapped the glass with her fingers, "is my only solace right now, and no one, _no one _can take it away from me," she shook her head again, sipping the drink through the straw, looking up at him petulantly.

All their other friends _loved _'drunk Monica', but to him, that's when she was at her most vulnerable. It broke his heart to see her like this.

Her eyes wide, her expression childlike, she giggled softly when he brushed his fingers against her cheek.

"Honey, I know you're sad," he nodded as he spoke soothingly.

"I'm not sad," she denied, the smile dropping from her face, her cerulean blue eyes suddenly brimming with tears.

"Ok," he sat down beside her, his hand inching closer to her scotch. "You're _not _sad, but can you please give me your 'only solace'?" he pointed at the glass, looking at her pleadingly. "Please?"

She frowned at him, sniffing. "Why?"

"Your brother is getting married tomorrow, do you really want to be that one hung-over bridesmaid whom everybody keeps staring at?" he asked, plucking the glass from her reluctant fingers. "You'll thank me later," he got off the bed and placed the glass on the nightstand. "Why don't you get into bed?" he pulled her up by holding her arm, and pulled away the sheets.

They staggered away from the bed as she stumbled in his arms.

"Whoa, whoa!" he steadied her by holding her shoulders tightly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," her voice small, she pulled herself from his grip and moved to lie down on the bed.

He pulled the sheets over her and tucked them up to her chin. Kneeling down beside her, he could smell the alcohol that she'd consumed. "Forget about your mother, she's just a crazy bi-" he stopped abruptly, realizing what he was saying.

"Say it," she nodded. "I can't, but you can."

"She's just a really, really undeserving mother," he finished. "Try to get some sleep." He kissed her forehead and stood up. "Remember, any guy who thinks _I'm _Leonardo DiCaprio is definitely not sober enough to comment on _anything_."

As he turned to leave, she caught his hand. She sat up slowly, clutching his hand tightly. "Don't go, Chandler," she whispered, looking at him forlornly. "I don't want to be alone."

"It's nearly eleven already, Mon, and I think we both need the sleep. We have an early day tomorrow." Her hair felt soft beneath his fingers. He tucked a lock of her hair that had escaped her bun, behind her ear. "Just close your eyes and don't think about anything. Everything will be okay when you wake up."

She let go of his hand slowly. No, she didn't believe his words; everything will _not _be okay, but he looked as tired as she felt. She nodded as she lay back again and pulled the sheets closer around her. "Okay."

He went to the door and switched off the lights. He turned back to look at her through the darkness. "Goodnight, Mon." The door closed behind him with a dull thud.

~.~

_Consider yourself fortunate, _her brain hissed, _unlike Rachel, you're not watching the love of your life marry another woman._

But then, that was the root of this problem – she did not _have_ a 'love of her life'. At least, not anymore.

_We don't mind spending money on our only son's wedding! Of course not! Quite possibly, this might be the only wedding we ever get to throw._

Did her mother even realize that these little remarks hurt her feelings more than she could ever put into words?

She loved her brother with all her heart, but whenever her parents were around, all she felt towards him was an insane jealousy. She had done nothing wrong to deserve such horrible parents, and he had achieved nothing extraordinary to deserve such wonderful parents.

Now, she didn't possess the strength to feel even that all-familiar jealousy. A feeling of inexplicable sadness was all she felt.

_Ross's mother?_

Oh, god.

Did she actually look like Ross's mother?

The question sounded ludicrous even to her, but that's how life always worked. It piled up things on you when you are already low, until you reach a breaking point. And this was her breaking point.

She sat up, tears pricking her eyes.

She wanted something to divert her from her depressed state of mind. Something. Anything.

_Honey, there are only two things that can cure depression – alcohol, and sex. If there's an option, always choose both_. Rachel had told her that once, and she had laughed along with her. Now, nothing seemed more appealing to her brain.

_Alcohol and sex_. Sex was not an option. She knew no men there, except for Ross, Chandler, and Joey.

Alcohol, though...

She looked at the mini-fridge in her room longingly. Just one drink would do no harm, right?

She smirked. This was exactly the kind of thing that went through in her mind when she was a teenager. _One more small sliver of cake would do no harm, right?_ And before she knew it, she weighed 200 pounds.

She was sure that the scotch she had consumed earlier was still in her system, and she had a mild headache to confirm the fact that she'd definitely be hung over tomorrow, if she consumed any more alcohol.

No, she didn't want to be the hung-over bridesmaid whom everybody kept staring at.

_Damn you, Chandler, damn you._

If she lived in a world where _Chandler_ made sensible arguments, the world no longer made sense to her.

The radium hands of her watch told her it was 1 a.m., London time. She pushed the sheets away and got off the bed.

If he was going to ruin her night by making her not drink any more, he will have to bear the brunt of her depressed mind. Even if it was one o'clock in the morning.

She took the room's key-card out of its socket and opened the door to leave, casting one last look of yearning towards the mini-fridge before she closed the door.

She was a little hopeful that he would be awake, too. After all, it was only around eight, back at their place.

She pressed the button to the elevator and waited. Joey and Chandler's room was two floors above hers. A moment later, the elevator pinged open to reveal a couple, probably in their early twenties, heavily making out. She turned away, turning crimson, and they pulled apart instantly as they exited the elevator.

She entered the elevator, sighing. Great, watching people during their foreplay was just what she needed.

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. For some strange reason her brain flashed an image of Joey asking 'how you doin'?'.

She chuckled, her eyes still closed. "Not good, Joe. Not good," she murmured to herself.

Her eyes snapped open suddenly. Joey! How had she missed it? A perfect candidate for one night of great, stringless sex – Joey!

She didn't know about the 'great' part with absolute certainty, but if the number of women he'd slept with was to be taken into consideration, it spoke for itself. And unlike Chandler, Joey never put himself down when he talked about his sexual prowess. The 'stringless' part, though, she knew with certainty. Nothing with Joey would ever turn into anything more than a one-night stand.

For the first time that night, she felt genuinely happy with anticipation. Joey would never say no to her. All she had to come up with was a plan to get him out of the room without Chandler knowing what was happening.

She got off the elevator and went to the guys' room. Staring at the door warily, she took deep breaths to calm herself before she knocked on the door, hoping Joey would answer it.

She sighed in disappointment when Chandler opened the door.

His hair disheveled, his eyes red, he looked like he had been woken up from a deep sleep. "Monica?"

"Hey," she smiled at him awkwardly. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Um... no, actually." He opened the door wider for her to enter, looking embarrassed for some reason. "What are you doing here? I thought you were asleep."

"I couldn't sleep," she shrugged, entering the room, her eyes scanning the room for Joey. She frowned when she found his bed empty. Where the hell was he? "Hey, is Joey not here?"

"Nope," Chandler shook his head as he closed the door. "Do you know that other bridesmaid? Felicia something?"

"Felicity?"

"Yeah," he nodded, turning off the television which had been on mute. "He's getting over his homesickness by doing what comes natural to him," he lifted his eyebrows to emphasize the implication that was already very clear. "He has a bucket of strawberries and Felicity to help him through the process."

"Oh," she sighed, the happiness that she had felt just a few minutes back, vanishing immediately. She plopped down on his bed, not bothering to hide her disappointment. "Oh," she murmured again.

"Are you okay?" he frowned, sitting down beside her.

"Yeah," she nodded reluctantly as she moved to lie on his bed, looking up at the ceiling. "It's just... Oh, it's nothing," she shook her head, turning to look at him. "What are you doing up so late?"

He glanced at the TV guiltily before he looked at her. "I, uh, I couldn't sleep," he shrugged. "So I ordered a movie."

"What movie?" she perked up, moving closer to him. Maybe a movie would cheer her up. "Please don't say 'Die Hard'."

"No, it's actually..." he trailed off, looking very uncomfortable.

"You ordered porn, didn't you?"

He nodded reluctantly. "When you can't get any _real _action, porn is always the way to go."

She nodded understandingly. She spoke again several seconds later, in a low, embarrassed voice. "Can I watch it with you?" She smacked his arm when he chuckled.

"I don't mind," he shook his head, still laughing, "but do you think a lesbian 69 is your kind of thing."

"God, no!" she shook her head, shooting him a look of disgust. "So that's why you didn't wanna say you were watching porn," she grinned at him.

He shrugged, smiling back.

"Hey, can I turn off the lights? After all those drinks, I'm starting to get a headache."

"I'm not really surprised," he commented as he rose from the bed and switched off the lights. "Better?"

"Much better," she nodded, her eyes slowly getting accustomed to the darkness. She felt the bed shift as he climbed back on it and lay down beside her. "How sad are we?" she murmured, hooking her pinky with his. "The other bridesmaid and best man are having sex somewhere in this building, and here we are, at one o'clock in the morning, wide awake with a mild hangover."

"I don't have a hangover," he murmured back. "But the rest of it is true, yes."

"What happened to us, Chandler?" she moved closer to him, wrapping an arm loosely around his torso as she laid her head on his shoulder. "It's like, life has forgotten that there are two people called Chandler and Monica."

He laughed lightly. "Mon, I know you're depressed, but are you determined to bring me down, too?"

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "It's just, whenever my mom says that I'm never gonna get married, there's a little part inside my brain which keeps confirming it. I really do think that I'm going to die an old, spinster cook."

"Now you're quoting the guy who peed on you?"

"Well, you were right. It's been a year, and I'm still in the same place."

"I'm an idiot, why would you listen to me?" His hand moved along her top, caressing her back. When his fingers reached the thin line of skin between the hem of her top and her skirt, he moved his hand away quickly, noticing her sharp intake of breath. "Any guy would be lucky to have you, Monica," he said softly, his words laced with sincerity. "When it's the right time, everything will work out just the way you want. You just need to be a little patient." When she sighed, he continued, "Until then, if it's of any consolation to you, which I think it'll be, I'm in the same place, too."

"Do I look like Ross's mother, Chandler?"

"No, you don't look like Judy Geller. You look more like your nana when she was young. She really was a very pretty woman."

"That's not what I meant," she smiled, reluctantly welcoming his compliment.

"I know," he nodded. "But I'm trying to change the topic to a more positive one."

"So I don't look like a woman who _could _be Ross's mom?" she persisted.

"No."

It was nearly one thirty now, but they could still hear the traffic outside, just as noisy as it would be in New York at this hour of the night. Their breathing rhythmic and deep, neither knew whether the other was asleep or awake as a silence prevailed for several minutes.

She broke the silence finally. "Do you really think I'm pretty?"

"You're kidding me, right?" he shifted a little to look at her. "Of course I think you're pretty. Pretty is an understatement, Mon. You're gorgeous, you're breathtaking." His thumb trailing along her jawline, he leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose. "You're beautiful."

She stared back at him through the darkness, feeling like she had miscalculated something.

When your heart thunders against your ribs and your blood pounds in your ears, it's hard to make sensible decisions. But she made a decision now – sensible or not, she didn't care.

Her hands moving to frame his face, she leaned over him, against him, feeling his heartbeat match the pace of her own. "Kiss me, Chandler."

Inarticulacy had always been one of his problems. He felt its profound effect now as he gazed back into her calm, blue eyes. "What?" he whispered back in shock.

"I was wrong, Chandler," she shook her head, pressing her lips to his cheek as she spoke. "This is my only solace," her breath ghosted against his skin. "_You_ are my only solace," she whispered against the shell of his ear.

"Mon?" he murmured again uncertainly, when she pulled back to look into his eyes.

"Tell me you love me," she pleaded, her gaze holding his.

"You know I love you," he whispered back, his fingers moving on their own accord to find the bare, soft skin of her waist again.

"Tell me that I'm beautiful."

"Of course you're beautiful."

"Make me _feel_ beautiful," she said finally, leaning her forehead against his, her eyes closed.

His uncertainty lingered only for a moment before he leaned up to kiss her.

The kiss, soft and tentative, was turning into something more. His tongue sought entrance, and she parted her lips. As the kiss turned deeper, it took him a few seconds to realize she was rolling them over.

Each touch was apprehensive and hesitant. They undressed slowly, but she found their act of lovemaking itself to be hurried, clumsy, and passionate. She felt like she was losing her virginity all over again.

She welcomed his weight when he finally collapsed on top of her, his breath hot and rapid against the crook of her neck. Her hands on his back, she trailed her fingers along the corrugations of his spine, feeling his racing heart begin to slow in unison with hers.

She opened her eyes when she felt the warmth of his breath shift from her neck to her cheek. She looked into his eyes, the same deep blue eyes that she had looked into a million times before. Even before this night, she had known him like she knew herself, but now, she recognized him as a _part_ of her.

When he leaned in to kiss her again, she closed her eyes, knowing that this will not be the end.

It was just the beginning, the beginning of something so very beautiful.

~.~.~

_A/N: When you sing 'Somebody That I Used to Know' at the top of your lungs all day long, you just know you need help..._

_Anyway, I think it's been a really long time since I wrote something as romantic as that! I enjoyed writing it, and I really hope you enjoyed reading it :)_

_Care to leave a review and make my day?_


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